


This Is Us

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: What if Pusher’s endgame wasn’t just Russian Roulette? Alternative ending for Pusher: fuck or die. This is dubcon. I’ve never written it. It has made me very uncomfortable to write. But I have read dubcon and enjoyed it so I’m trying not to be hypocritical!





	This Is Us

She walks into the room blind. Her chest expands as she takes in a breath at the sight of Mulder, sitting opposite Modell, sweat beading over his forehead. There’s a gun on the table. Modell greets her, as though they’ve been waiting for her all this time.

“Regular convention,” he responds as she tells him about the cavalry outside. Mulder doesn’t move throughout the exchange and she switches her gaze from him to Modell, weighing up the situation in the room, trying to anticipate Modell’s next move.

When he says, “you don’t know what I got planned” her stomach turns on itself and she tries to push the burning bile back down as she sits down. Mulder still doesn’t acknowledge her, simply stares at Modell, completely under his thrall.

The noise of the chamber spinning makes her skin break out in shivery sweat. A clamour of thoughts rush around her mind, half-formed plans, contingencies, wishes, hopes, dreams. She starts to think about all the things she’s never told Mulder but cuts herself short. She can’t go there. She just can’t. She checks him again, as Modell outlines the rules of his sick game. Mulder pulls the trigger in an instant and she slams her hands on the table, fear rushing the words out of her mouth. She’s so fucking pissed. Not at Modell, but at Mulder. How could he just do that without even a moment’s hesitation?

When her brain restarts, she reminds herself of the answer: Modell. His control over her partner is total. There appears to be no way out.

“Good,” Modell says, breathing out. “We get to play some more.”

“Enough,” she screams. “You’ve done enough. You’ve proved your point. What more do you want?”

Modell grins at her. A sickening smile. “I want what you have.”

Her mouth is so parched her tongue is fat in her mouth. “And what is that, Modell?” If she can keep him talking, she might be able to take back control. She might be able to break his hold over Mulder.

“You have the perfect life. You’re smart, you’re tough, you’re employed by the Federal Government, you’re beautiful.” He leans forward and breathes over her. “And you two have got something special going on.”

She presses her lips together, looks at Mulder. He’s still expressionless. “Get to the point, Modell.”

“By all means, Dana.” He draws out her name so it sounds like a snake’s hiss on his tongue. She recoils and he laughs, grabbing the gun and pointing it at Mulder. “No foreplay. Just how I like it.”

The hair at her nape stands on end. “You’ll never get away with this, Modell. This room is covered by dozens of armed officers.”

“And they’re all waiting for a signal from you. But if you make any noise, I will blast the good looks out of lover boy’s face. Understand?”

“We’re partners,” she says. And the sound of the word on her tongue jars. They are partners, but there’s more there. She’s considered that their closeness might be a product of the stress of the job. She’s considered that their relationship might have developed, in part, because of those stresses…they’ve been through so much, they’ve seen each other at their most vulnerable, they’ve saved each other’s lives. Modell is right. They’ve got something special. It’s just that they’ve never spoken about it. Never acknowledged it. And she’ll do anything to protect it.

“You see, Agent Scully, I think you’re being economical with the truth. I think,” he says, standing up now and walking behind Mulder, “that this man here might mean something more to you than just a work partner. Why don’t you tell him what he means to you?”

She remains silent, searching what she can see of the room, desperation coming in short pants in her chest. Modell’s gun is trained on the back of Mulder’s head. He bends and whispers in Mulder’s ear. Mulder twists his chair to face Scully. His eyes blink quickly but the blank expression returns.

“Put the gun down, Modell. Stop this now. Surrender. It’s your only choice.”

“Oh, I have choices, Agent Scully. I am the master here. You will do what I say. Tell him,” Modell looks across at her then nods to Mulder. “Look, he’s just waiting here for you to say something. Poor Mulder. He’s all ears.”

She curls her fingers into balls and lets the nails dig into her palms. “Mulder is the best partner I could wish for.”

Modell shakes his head. “Is that really the best you’ve got?”

She looks at Mulder when she speaks. Looks at the softening expression on his face. “He’s a friend. A good friend. My best friend.”

Modell laughs, mocks her. “He’s my best friend. D’you hear that Fox? Dana here says she’s your best friend.” He taps Mulder’s shoulder with the barrel of the weapon and Mulder stands. His hands move to the belt around his pants. There’s a slight tremble as he unbuckles it.

“Mulder, what are you doing? Modell?” There’s an edge to her voice that she’s desperate to keep under control. She breathes in and out. “Stop this.”

Mulder’s belt drops to the floor with a thud and a clink. She looks up at his face to see how wet his eyes have grown. His lips are whiter, pressed together, the skin on the underside of his jaw is rippling. He looks like he’s fighting. Fighting Modell. She swears he’s trying to speak.

“I think Mulder might see you as something more than best friend, Dana. It’s amazing what goes on in his head, you know? All these thoughts and feelings jumbled up so the poor man has no chance of making sense of it. And if he doesn’t understand how he really feels, then how are you supposed to?”

Her heart thumps so hard her ears fill with the sound of her own blood pumping. Outside, there are law enforcement officers waiting to do their job, waiting for her order. All she has to do is give them the signal. But the gun at Mulder’s back, the hold he’s under, the way her legs have turned to stone. She’s failing. Failing Mulder.

“You’re not a mind-reader, Modell. You’re a pathetic trickster. A hypnotist at best.”

He feigns a wounded look but carries on. “There is one thought that seems to come up time and time again. Do you know what that is?”

“Let him go, Modell. No more.”

“Let him go? Isn’t that funny? That’s what he’s saying about you right now. Let her go, Robert. Let Dana go.”

The muscles in her arms tense. “You’re lying. He’d never call me that.”

“Oh, but he does, Dana. Up here,” he uses his free hand to stroke the side of Mulder’s head. “Up here where the thoughts are messy, your name jumps out. Dana this, Dana that. I think he likes you.” Modell grins. Mulder makes a strangled noise from his throat. “Dana’s ass looks good in that suit. I can see Dana’s bra through her shirt. I wonder what Dana’s tits feel like pressed against my face.”

She breathes hard through her nose. “That’s you talking, Modell. That’s your fantasy.”

“Believe what you like, Scully. But seeing as how I’m running things here, you’d better start listening real hard. You’d do anything for your partner, Agent Scully. You’d fight for him?”

She nods.

“You’d lie for him?”

Her lips are dry and she runs her tongue over them, hardly daring to give Modell the answer he wants to hear.

“You’d lay down your life for him?” Modell unbuttons the fly on Mulder’s pants and they fall to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Anger thrusts her forward but Modell clicks the trigger and presses the nozzle against Mulder’s head, digging it in so the skin there flexes.

“You’d do anything for him, Dana?”

Tears track down Mulder’s cheeks. He’s standing in his boxers and white tee-shirt, gun to his head, under the control of a madman. But he’s crying. And she knows it’s for her.

“Tell him what he means to you.”

“I have.”

“Tell him again. Tell the truth.”

Mulder blinks again, as though the word has triggered more power in him. Modell pushes the gun harder and she flinches on Mulder’s behalf.

“The truth is,” she says, “that our relationship is complex and difficult to define and he means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

The tear held in Mulder’s eye drips and he makes that noise again. Like he’s in agreement with her. Like they’re in this together and they won’t let the other down.

“Awww, ain’t that sweet, Fox?” Modell whispers in his ear. “But I think if she’s not willing to really open up and tell you, that she needs to show you how much you mean to her.”

Mulder’s shoulders begin to tremble. Scully’s stomach clenches.

Modell moves the gun from his temple to the waistband of his boxers and she understands with sickening clarity what this lunatic wants.

“No.” Her voice is stronger than she anticipated. Her hands are shaking and her stomach is roiling but she has to remain calm. She glances at Mulder. Tears have gathered at the tip of his nose and there’s a war going on behind his eyes.

“Yes, Dana. Yes.” Modell pushes the fabric down further, revealing the dark clutch of hairs below Mulder’s navel. She sees his burgeoning erection and swallows her own fear. If she’s scared, she’s not doing her job. If she lets the monster get the better of her emotions, they’ll both lose.

“You’re sick.” She spits out the words but Modell simply grins again. “This is not what we want. This is not us.” Us. She said it. Us. And it tasted bittersweet.

“You want flowers and champagne? Like a date? I don’t think that’s what Mulder here is offering, is it, buddy?”

Mulder makes that noise again, this time more forcefully. She hears him say it. She hears him say no. Modell yanks down his boxers and turns the gun on her.

“Show him.”

“He won’t be able to…the duress you’re putting him under. It’s not fair.” She takes a step forward, tilts up her chin, holds Mulder’s gaze.

“Show him.” Modell steps closer and the gun fills her vision. He takes her hand and pulls it towards Mulder. In her grasp, his cock thickens and he lets out a low moan. In it, she hears humiliation, horror, rage.

Modell is laughing. And it clicks. This is not about some vicarious sexual thrill. This is all about control, power. Modell knows he’s got nobody by his side, so his aim is to try ruin what others have got. He sees their strong partnership as the ideal. And he’s determined to drive a wedge between them. She realises as she sinks to her knees that the least she can do in this appalling situation is to make sure they come away from this together. Stronger.

Breathing hurts. It’s like fire inside her but she knows she has to divert the energy to something more useful than self-pity and hatred. She looks at Mulder and shares a moment of pain with him before breathing the fire again and blowing flames from her nose. If Modell wants action, he’s going to get it.

“Mulder,” she says, stroking his shaft. “This is what I’ve wanted for a long time.”

“Get on with it.” Modell’s voice is ragged with anticipation.

“This is something I’ve dreamt about, thought about often.” She thumbs the end of his cock and sees his knees shivering. She licks the pre-cum and glances up at Mulder, blocking out Pusher’s smug grin. “This is just me and you, Mulder.”

Spoken out loud, the words are as much for her benefit as his. There’s a sound again, a weak roar, like all his emotions are trapped between his ribs, trying to claw their way out. She strokes him again, revelling in the softness of the underside of his cock. It bobs in her hand she bends to kiss it, smothers it with saliva and lets it rest on her tongue, closing her lips around it. Pusher sighs and it takes all her might not to gag at the thought of him intruding on this act. This is Mulder. This just Mulder and me.

It’s true that she has fantasised about this. About this and more. There are many ways to show physical love and she hopes, as she slides her lips further along Mulder’s shaft, that in future, she’ll be able to show him every way, just them. She hopes he’ll understand that she might not have chosen the circumstances, but he’s not taking anything away from her. That Mulder’s not forcing her.

Pusher’s doing that. And they’ll deal with that later.

She increases the pressure of her mouth and blots out the noises Pusher is making. He’s pulled up a chair and is sitting almost level with her so he’s in her peripheral vision. She doesn’t want to close her eyes because she wants to watch Mulder, she needs him to see her, to be able to read her, whatever state his mind is in. She runs a finger under his balls, feels them tighten as he bucks into her mouth. Mulder’s hand at the back of her head surprises her and increases her rhythm. She entertains the idea that he’s becoming more aware of his surroundings. That maybe the strong emotions and physical feeling is breaking Pusher’s hold.

Her thumb strokes his perineum and he bucks again. She opens her throat and allows him further in. There’s a building tremor in Mulder’s legs and her knees are creaking with the pressure of her position. She dips and pulls back, dips and pulls back, finger and thumb now forming a tight circle at the base of his shaft. Mulder’s breathing is quickening, and his fingers thread deeper through her hair. Somewhere out of her field of view, Modell is giving a running commentary.

“Fuck the little spy, Mulder. Fuck her mouth.”

She sets her mind to the sounds of Mulder’s growing pleasure, the salt-slick taste in her mouth, the swelling of her breasts against her blouse and heavy throbbing between her legs. This is us, she repeats. This is just the two of us. A mantra.

Mulder’s breathing hitches and he makes a sound, then speaks, voice cracking, “I’m going to kill you, Modell.” She feels his balls constrict and his hand flings sideways to grab the side of the table. He empties into her, hot spurts of ecstatic relief for both of them and she sinks to her heels, finally closing her eyes.

Before she knows what’s happening, a shot rings out. She leaps to her feet and sees Mulder firing the empty chamber at Modell who is slumped in his chair, bleeding from the head.

The SWAT team fills the room and there’s no time for embarrassment. Mulder hands her the gun and she knows he’s breathing that same fire as she is.

He turns up at her apartment in the small hours. She hadn’t even tried to sleep. He sits next to her in the dark, takes her hand in his and rests their clasped fist on his lap.

“I’m sorry, Scully.” It’s a murmur so quiet that it strikes at her heart.

“You did nothing wrong, Mulder.”

He turns to her, eyes red, jaw flexing. “I tried to fight him. Tried to stop it.”

“I know,” she says, “I know you did. I saw you. I heard you.”

There’s a small noise from the pit of his throat, a keening sigh. “I heard you too, Scully.”

She quirks her head, rifles through the events, trying to work out what it was she said.

“This is us, you said. This is just the two of us.” He breathes out, long and hard.

Scooting closer, she takes his head and lets it fall to her shoulders, stroking his hair as he weeps softly. “And it always will be.”


End file.
